


to a bright future (if it's with you)

by paint_me_a_revolution



Category: Romeo & Juliette - Toho Stage, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Benvolio is secretly a Soft Man, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings, M/M, Weddings, but very mild, small warning for descriptions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paint_me_a_revolution/pseuds/paint_me_a_revolution
Summary: After the duel, things change in Verona. Benvolio never could have predicted this, but somehow it feels right.
Relationships: Juliet Capulet/Romeo Montague, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59
Collections: Romeo & Juliet / Romeo et Juliette Fanfic Exchange 2019





	to a bright future (if it's with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amitye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amitye/gifts).



It’s almost funny, how things work out. Benvolio lights a cigarette and listens to the Prince tear into his family, into the Capulets, and thinks there couldn’t possibly be a better outcome than this. This…feels almost like forgiveness. There’s a charge in the air as Lord Capulet looks at Lady Capulet, and then he holds his hand into the space between himself and Lord Montague and _waits._ Benvolio holds his breath. When Lord Montague accepts the offered hand, he lets it out again in a rush. He lifts the cigarette to his lips. There’s blood on his hand.

Romeo grabs him as he turns to leave, shaking and sobbing and looking a little bit like he did when he had nightmares as a child. His cheeks are damp and his eyes glassy, and his hands leave bloody tracks on Benvolio’s sleeve. Benvolio doesn’t know what to do, so he puts his arms around his cousin and _squeezes,_ burying his face in the shoulder of Romeo’s denim jacket. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says. There’s an unpleasant taste in his mouth and a hard, unmoving lump in his throat, but somehow he believes it will be.

“I stabbed Tybalt.” Romeo’s voice is thin and far away. “I tried to _kill_ someone.”

“He tried to kill Mercutio.” Benvolio can still see his bloody hands, tangled in the fabric of Romeo’s jacket. Privately, he thinks Romeo was justified.

“I could have been _banished.”_

“You could have, but you weren’t.” Taking a deep, uneasy breath, Benvolio pushes himself back. He cups Romeo’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over his cousin’s pale, clammy skin, and smiles a little. “Things are looking up, you know. For the first fucking time in _forever,_ I feel like we’re gonna be okay.”

Escalus asks to see all of them. It’s cold in the castle; wood hasn’t been affordable in years, even for the Prince, so Benvolio leaves his jacket on and rubs his hands together to keep them warm. Tybalt glares at him from the other side of the table, chin propped on his hand. He looks like a strong breeze could knock him over, a far cry from the brazen young man who’d put a knife between Mercutio’s ribs. Mercutio, oddly, seems unbothered by his presence. He flips his knife open and closed, open and closed, and smiles impishly at Benvolio.

What Escalus has to say isn’t kind. He tells them how stupid they were, how selfish. Half the time, it seems he only sees Mercutio when he says these things. His eyes are burning coals, his knuckles white as he grips the arm of his chair. Benvolio thinks about Mercutio’s parents, sleeping in the Escalus family crypt, and he thinks of his own, and he doesn’t blame the Prince in the slightest. “ _Selfish,”_ Escalus says, “but so lucky.”

The door opens. “You wanted to see me?” a voice says. It’s high and soft and unfamiliar, so Benvolio cranes his neck to look at the intruder. She’s short and thin, with rosy cheeks and delicate bones. Bird bones, Benvolio’s mother might have called them. Light enough that she could fly away if she wanted. Her hair is long and black straight and sits at her collarbones like silk.

“Juliette.” Escalus beckons her in. She enters with steps that are small and deliberate, heels clicking on the tile. Even in the dim light, the pink stones of her cross necklace seem to shimmer. No wonder the Capulets are in so much debt, Benvolio thinks, if they spend their money on things like that. “I have news for you.”

Juliette looks timidly around the room. Her eyes dart from Mercutio to Tybalt to Benvolio, and then finally rest on Romeo. He looks like he might burst into tears, his lower lip already trembling. Benvolio lays a hand on his wrist, stroking the back of his hand to calm him like he used to when they were children. Romeo’s hand twitches. Benvolio switches to holding his wrist, hoping Romeo has enough sense to stay where he is.

“Take a seat,” Escalus says to Juliette, who’s hovering by Tybalt’s side of the table. The Capulet looks like he’s sucked on a lemon, but some of the ice behind his eyes melts when Juliette takes the seat next to him. She takes his hand in both of her smaller ones, a smile on her pretty face. Benvolio swallows against the lump in his throat. She looks so kind, so gentle, with a warm glow to her eyes that reminds him so much of Romeo. No wonder, he thinks, Romeo loves her.

“Is this about our parents?” Juliette asks once she’s settled. Escalus frowns and adjusts one of his cufflinks, clearly considering his next move. “Is it?”

“This is about you,” he says at last.

“Me?”

He nods. “Your parents aren’t happy with your marriage.”

Juliette visibly sucks in a breath, and Benvolio hears Romeo do the same. Escalus continues, “I’ve convinced them to let bygones be bygones, but there’s a condition. You need to have a proper wedding.”

Romeo bursts into tears. Juliette blinks, mouth dropping open, and Tybalt lets out a disappointed huff and slumps against the back of his chair. Mercutio doesn’t even look up from where he’s scratching something into the polished surface of the table. All of the tension Benvolio’s been holding releases itself at once, and he feels a little bit like he’s floating. Subconsciously, he closes his free hand around the arm of his chair to keep himself from drifting away. For his part, Escalus looks as amused as Benvolio’s ever seen him. He keeps talking, but it seems like only Juliette is listening.

Romeo and Juliette have their ceremony on a Thursday. Benvolio keeps his eyes on both sets of parents, an easy thing to do from his spot beside the groom. Lady Capulet’s lips are pursed, her whole face puckered in displeasure, but Lord Capulet seems…almost pleased as he passes Juliette off at the altar. As he presses Juliette’s hand into Romeo’s, he whispers something Benvolio can’t quite hear. Romeo ducks his head and beams like he’s been handed the entire world. Benvolio offers a careful grin to Tybalt, who grimaces. Like Benvolio on the groom’s side, he’s the only person standing in the bridal party. From the look on his face, he’d rather be anywhere else; nevertheless, he stays put and keeps his mouth shut, which is probably all anyone could ask for. As Romeo and Juliette slip matching rings on their fingers, Benvolio has to wipe a few tears before anyone can see. Lady Montague is openly sobbing with joy, clinging to her equally happy husband. Lady Capulet still looks like she’s trying to kill Romeo with nothing but her mind, but Lord Capulet beams. When Romeo and Juliette kiss, Benvolio catches Mercutio’s eye and grins so hard his cheeks hurt.

Romeo and Juliette’s first dance is to a song Benvolio’s never really liked. He sways with the music anyway, because there’s such a tangible feeling of _peace_ in the air. Juliette’s nurse dances with him after, keeping him for three songs while he picks through the crowd with his eyes until he finds Mercutio. “I have to go,” he tells her. The Nurse pinches his cheek and gives him a little push. It’s all the encouragement Benvolio needs.

“Hey,” Mercutio says when Benvolio reaches him. He’s flushed from dancing and drink, eyes sparkling. “Have you talked to the happy couple?”

“All night.” Benvolio pulls him towards the dance floor. Mercutio doesn’t need much persuading, and they stumble over each other in their haste, laughing. “Now I wanna talk to _you.”_

The band starts up a slow song. All around them, couples start pairing off. Lady Montague leans into Lord Montague’s chest, her arms around his shoulders in a tender embrace. A few paces away, Romeo sways from side to side in an awkward dance. Juliette doesn’t seem to mind, staring into his eyes with nothing but love in hers. “Come on,” Mercutio says. He slips his hand, warm and strong, into Benvolio’s, and Benvolio squeezes it instinctively. 

“I never imagined this,” Benvolio says as they spin slowly to the music. His stomach feels warm and full of butterflies, especially when Mercutio smiles at him. Even though he wasn’t part of the wedding party, he’s wearing the same colour purple as Benvolio. His lapels are made of some kind of sequined fabric that catches the light with every turn.

“Dancing with me, or not being dead?”

“Either.” Benvolio takes a breath. “Both.”

Mercutio laughs. It makes the skin around his eyes wrinkle a little; with a jolt, Benvolio thinks about what he’ll look like when he’s old. Will he still have that blue hair? Will he wear the same ridiculous clothes? Will he…will he still look at Benvolio like that? He doesn't know, but he _wants_ to. Suddenly, he knows with absolute certainty that he wants to be there when Mercutio is old and possibly grey, right beside him forever.

“Marry me,” he breathes. Mercutio trips in shock, grabbing onto Benvolio’s arms to steady himself.

“What?” he gasps.

“Please marry me.” Benvolio’s voice comes out shaking and hoarse. He’s suddenly acutely aware of where they are, what they’re doing. This is someone else’s wedding, after all. This is Romeo’s big day. “And just…whatever your answer is, _don’t_ say it too loud.” 

Mercutio goes quiet for a moment, stunned, and then he doubles over, laughing. His fingers tighten around Benvolio’s jacket sleeve, two identical bands of pressure. Somehow, it grounds him. “Of course I’ll marry you,” Mercutio wheezes when he’s caught his breath. He says it as quietly as he can manage through the laughter, adding “you fucking idiot,” as he leans up on his toes to kiss Benvolio. The song changes to something with a beat that hammers through Benvolio’s entire body, but the world around him seems to stand still.

He never imagined his story would end like this, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> To the lovely Ila, I hope you enjoy this!


End file.
